


Looking Like You Just Woke Up

by haemophilus



Series: [secondary characters] [6]
Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Character Study, Dysfunctional Relationships, F/F, Lesbian Character, Older Characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 17:11:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11925441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haemophilus/pseuds/haemophilus
Summary: The love song of Bonnie and Mrs.Mac.





	Looking Like You Just Woke Up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [woollen_pharaohs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/woollen_pharaohs/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by [woollen_pharaohs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/woollen_pharaohs/pseuds/woollen_pharaohs) in the [SunnyRarePairs](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SunnyRarePairs) collection. 



> **Prompt:**  
>  There were some days when Mac never came home. Mrs. McDonald had never met Mrs. Kelly and never had a lot of trust in anyone, but when Mac did come back home, he always came back with a smile on his face so she thinks she has nothing to worry about. Except it's been just over three weeks and she hasn't the slightest idea if school is on or if it's break or even what the date is.  
> The first thing she decides to do is go to the corner shop and buy a pack of cigarettes. The second thing is to smoke half of it on the laborious walk over to the Kelly's. 
> 
> (Set when Mac and Charlie were in school. Background Charlie/Mac is fine, but not necessary.)
> 
> ***
> 
> Okay so this went off in a bit of a different direction but I know you wanted something like this anyway. Much love! 
> 
> Content warning for alcoholism, dysfunctional relationships, and one usage of the slur d*ke reclaimed.

Brring. Brrrrring. Brrrrrrring!

“Mac! Answer the damn phone!” Mrs. Mac said.

No response. Stubbed out her cigarette. Stood up. Groaned.

“Damn kid,” she said. Picked up the phone. “What do you want?”

“Is this Mrs. MacDonald?” asked a woman. Girlish voice. Polite. Casual.

“Who’s calling?” said Mrs. Mac.

“Oh, sorry. This is Bonnie Kelly. Charlie’s mom,” said Bonnie. “Our sons spend a lot of time together.”

Boys smoking and drinking. Hair stuck up in all directions. Laughter.

“Suppose you’re calling to tell me he got Charlie in trouble,” said Mrs. Mac.

Bonnie giggled. “Oh, no. Not any more than usual anyway.”

“Why are you calling?” said Mrs. Mac. Clock struck four. Soaps were starting.

“I was wondering since Mac spends so much time here if you’d want to come over for dinner tonight,” said Bonnie.

Empty cabinets. Leftover takeout. Beer. Eating alone.

“What time?” said Mrs. Mac.

“Six?” said Bonnie.

Mrs. Mac grunted in agreement. She hung up.

*

The tv was blasting a soap at full volume. Mrs. Mac and Bonnie were watching it together, transfixed. Bonnie was folding laundry into neat squares, one, two, three, four. Mrs. Mac was surrounded in a cloud of smoke. She stubbed out her cigarette, opened a new one, and lit it. Bonnie wrinkled her nose at the stench.

“The laundry is going to stink. Can’t you do that somewhere else?”

Mrs. Mac grunted, but didn’t stop smoking. Bonnie shook her head.

“Cancer sticks. You’re going to kill both of us.”

A grunt that sounded somewhere between a laugh and a cough. It was always hard to tell. How Mac ever could understand what she meant was a mystery.

_Mrs. Beck, allow me to introduce you to my sister: Mrs. MacDonald._

Another shirt – red. One, two, three, four. Straighten the crease, the collar. Into the pile.

“How fun! She has your name,” said Bonnie.

Mrs. Mac exhaled another cloud of smoke. “No she doesn’t.”

Bonnie frowned. “You’re Mrs. MacDonald.”

Blue shirt. One, two, three, four, crease, place.

“Got divorced,” Mrs. Mac replied.

“Oh,” said Bonnie. “I didn’t know.”

Mrs. Mac shrugged, and smoked her cigarette again.

Green shirt. One, two, three, four, crease, place.

“What would you like me to call you?” said Bonnie.

Mrs. Mac smoked and smoked, chewing over the thought.

“Nobody’s asked that in a long time,” she said.

Bonnie searched her memory, trying to find Mrs. Mac’s first name in the deep recesses of her mind. It had been years since the last time she’d heard it.

“June?” said Bonnie.

Mrs. Mac shook her head.

“Jay,” she said. “Call me Jay.”

*

“How do I look?” asked Bonnie.

Date night. New man. Newer lingerie. White. Lacy.

“Turn around,” said Jay.

Swish, swish, swish. Legs, shoulders, chest. Less air. Too many cigarettes.

“Do you think he’ll like it?” asked Bonnie.

Tight throat.

“Yeah.”

*

Red wine flowed through Bonnie’s veins as she drove their ancient sedan at top speed through residential Philadelphia. Her limbs were loose, and her brain was slow. The ever-present anxiety melted away by her fourth glass. Jay was drunk too; she was looking out the window, a half-smile on her face. The cigarette in her fingers tilted out of the window. It had gone out.

The church was approaching. Its Virgin Mary statue towered over them.

“Oh no,” said Bonnie. She hiccuped. “God can see me.”

“What?” said Jay in a groggy voice.

“I’m not supposed to be drinking,” said Bonnie. She hiccuped again.

Jay tried to take a smoke of her unlit cigarette, and frowned. She lit up again, and took another draw.

“You’re old. He ain’t watching,” said Jay.

“I have to go apologize,” said Bonnie. The car swerved towards the church.

“What the hell?” said Jay as her cigarette was flung out of her hand.

“They leave the adoration chapel unlocked! If I can just get in there -”

The sound of steel on marble. The Virgin Mary’s head rolled off her neck and cracks when it hits the sidewalk below.

“Oh no,” said Bonnie in a hushed voice. “What do we do?”

“Keep driving, bitch!” said Jay.

*

“Are you sure you don’t mind if Luther stays here for a while?” said Bonnie. Dusting. Flowery dress.

Shrug. Grunt. Smoke in, smoke out. Stub out cigarette. Grab another.

“Are you sure you’re not still in love with him?” asked Bonnie.

Cigarette in teeth. “What?”

“In four years you’ve never had any gentleman callers,” said Bonnie. Straighten dress.

Light cigarette. In, out.

“I’m a dyke.”

“Oh,” said Bonnie. Blush. Hm. “I never knew.”

In, out. Lungs burning. Cough.

“Yeah.”

*

The hammer was heavy in her hand. Jay was asleep in her chair; the air was clear for once. Bonnie’s leg still burned from the soup that bitch had poured on her leg.

So maybe she’d had a couple or six drinks to deal with the pain. She was 70 - drinking too much was a concern for people far younger than her. Bonnie crept over to the chair, and held up the hammer.

“You want to sleep, huh? Well I’ll sleep you -"

Jay startled awake, and Bonnie pulled the hammer behind her back. She walked away, careful to mask her reduced balance from the alcohol.

Bonnie crept upstairs, and fell into bed. When she woke, she didn’t remember anything after her fourth glass of boxed red.

*

“We should go out to dinner tonight,” Bonnie said. Red dress. Makeup. Hm.

“Why?” said Jay.

Blush. “We’ve been living together seven years today. I thought it might be fun to celebrate.”

“You askin me out on a date?” said Jay. Exhale smoke. Heavy stomach. Bonnie turns. Her eyes - anxious.

“Maybe.”

*

After, Jay lit up a cigarette, and pulled a blanket over her chest. If Bonnie squinted, she could convince herself that she had been with a man.

She kept her eyes wide open, stared and stared and stared until Jay said, “Cut it out, Bonnie.”

“I've never been with a woman before,” Bonnie said. Jay grunted.

“Now you have,” she said.

Bonnie came to herself when a large plume of smoke made her cough. She got out of bed, and opened a window.

“How do you manage to breathe in here?”

Jay shrugged, and opened up the blanket.

“Staying?”

It had been a long time since anyone had asked her to stay.

Bonnie crawled back into bed, heart pounding.

“Yes.”


End file.
